


Heedless of the Wind and Weather

by foxtwin



Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Gen, Holiday Carols, Magic, Seasonal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27302731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxtwin/pseuds/foxtwin
Summary: Xzar seeks components for new spells, as Montaron is charged with doing the dirty work.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Heedless of the Wind and Weather

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AvandraTheMarySueSlayer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvandraTheMarySueSlayer/gifts).



“I got yer pear tree,” Montaron snapped. “And I swiped the gold rings and some hens from some wizard out near High Hedge. But I says yer list is too damn long! We’re wasting time.”

“But we need so much more!” Xzar complained. The tree was little more than a leafless sapling set up on a side table in their room at The Burning Wizard. 

“Why not get ‘em in Baldur’s Gate?” Montaron suggested. “We’re due there as it is.”

“Yes, we’ll have to get the lords, ladies and milkmaids in Baldur’s Gate, I suppose. But surely the turtledoves, geese and swans are available from these fine country folk?”

“And where would we be keeping ‘em once we collect ‘em?” Montaron spat. “I ain’t playing the farmhand nor trekking overland with a barnyard on me back. Not when we’ve got more pressing matters.”

Xzar was nonplussed. “You worry too much about the details, Monty. Our benefactors have eyes and ears in each town. I’m sure we could come to an agreement with them. Perhaps the proprietor here would take care of them?” 

“More like cook ‘em in a stew,” Montaron retorted. “I’m not liking this, wizard. You go too far.”

“Gentle, dear Monty. Give it time. Here. See here, we’ll have to figure out where to get the drummers and pipers, too.”

“Perhaps that fake-witch Dynaheir with that goody-goody barbarian can do our toil. They seems to like music.”

“When the time comes, our benefactors will give us coin enough not to rely on them for that acquisition. The pear tree itself is more essential.” Xzar began to get a dreamy look in his eyes that stoked Montaron’s anger. 

“Then why are we in gods-damned Beregost?” Montaron whined. “We should be doing our investigations and getting the hell out of here.”

“It seems so...sturdy,” Xzar mused, changing his tone to a softer, more childlike side of his demeanor, looking once again at the small leafless pear tree and not paying Montaron any attention. “So…dead and barren. I LIKE it. Yes, it will have to do.” Snapping himself back to the present reality, Xzar asked, “Did Kagain mention where we might get a partridge?”

Kagain, Beregost’s swindling store keep, had been scouting and following the bandit trails in the area with little success. Montaron had joined him and their pushy companions enough to try and thwart raiding bandits, only to find some ransacked caravans. And the takings from the venture were slim indeed. 

“Farther north -- in the Evermoors,” Montaron spat. “But I told him to go suck an egg if he thought we’d travel that far for a lousy bird.”

“A pity,” Xzar said, shifting to a smoother, diplomatic tone. “Nothing else?”

“Yeah. Well, he then says there might be some near the Green Fields nor-east of Amn. That’s closer, but not close enough if yer askin’ me to do your toil. And it takes us away from Baldur’s Gate. More time-wasting.”

Montaron did his best to tamp down the instinct to slaughter the crazy mage right there and then. It wouldn’t do to kill him now. He’d have to wait for his opportunity. “So what do ye want me to do now? Burn it, I suppose?”

“No. The tree will have its uses...later.” 

Montaron, unsatisfied, pulled out his dagger and began sharpening its already razor-keen edge.

* * *

Ignoring the sulking Montaron, Xzar pulled out his newly acquired spellbook -- the one Garrick, the bard at the Red Sheaf, had more-than-willingly bequeathed him after dear old Monty threatened to pull out his vocal cords one...by...one. Xzar allowed a smile of delicious reminiscence to cross his face. Turns out the goody-goody bard’s spellbook wasn’t even his! Scrawled neatly on the first page of the thin tome was “Carols” -- a sure sign that the bard must have swiped the book from a fellow musician he had been bedding. It mattered little now whose grimoire it was, now that Xzar had hold of it.

Of course, being a bard’s spellbook, it had musical tunes to sing, complete with notations and suggestions for how best to enunciate the words. Xzar was not sure he could manage the tunes, let alone make the spells do what they intended. Bard spells and wizard spells were similar, but each had their technique. Using tunes and lyrics as verbal spell components were de rigueur for a bard, of course, but perhaps he could modify the spells just enough to suit a non-musical necromancer’s tastes? It might be a bit of extra work -- but worth it. Maybe old Ragefast in Baldur’s Gate could help him with the particulars of transcribing the spells properly -- for a price, of course. 

Had Xzar realized how cleverly cryptic this spellbook was, he might have befriended poor Garrick first and then tortured him to spill its secrets. As it was, though, Monty had scared the bard to pants-wetting, which meant he had scarpered away -- the lucky bastard -- before Xzar even knew what he had inherited. Nevertheless, Xzar was certain that the material components listed in most of these musical spells could be acquired through their overland journey before they reached Baldur’s Gate. And with just a few more weeks of studying the thin volume, he would be able to cypher out the nuances of its hidden somatic components as well. 

Naming all the components needed for the spells -- and getting them in their proper proportions -- would not be easy. But they were the masterstroke of these so-called songs! The first spell -- the one with the pear tree -- would take the longest to compile. What the spell would actually do, he wasn’t entirely sure. But with so many varied components, it had to be a grand spell indeed. Just the time and effort for it would be enough to test its limits. Now that he had the pear tree, he could bide his time. The finishing touch would require a love-smitten dolt, the so-called true love. They were easy enough to spot and even easier to exploit. 

Then there was one for jollity -- something he convinced himself Montaron could do with a great deal. It would certainly make his company more tolerable. Finding enough holly boughs to decorate an entire guildhall, never mind the so-called gay apparel and an ancient yuletide troll (Xzar had heard they existed beyond the Sword Coast often in the company of a goat), would require a bit of adventuring beyond their time in Baldur’s Gate. Perhaps with a bit of scrying or dimension-hopping he could manage it. 

And then there was one for rapid travel through the frozen north, across the frozen sea or the icy outskirts of the Ten Towns near the Spine of the World. But he’d have to find jingling bells for that spell -- and here in Beregost, he’d only heard the dull clang of cowbells. Perhaps he could find something in Baldur’s Gate, too, but he wouldn’t be holding his breath. No telling when he would need that spell anyway, given his benefactors were nothing if not surprising.

* * *

“Yer too quiet, wizard!” Montaron said, replacing his blade in its scabbard. His voice seemed to jolt the mad wizard out of his deep thoughts. “Perhaps I’ll seek out these farm birds for ye if that means we can be gone in the morning. Staying here with ye makes me nervous.”

“Go then, Monty,” the wizard returned. “You have the list. By the time you return, I’ll have added a few more things to collect. But don’t worry -- we can get them along the way.”

"Ye mean, _I_ can get them on the way," Montaron muttered, perhaps too loudly. 

Montaron turned on his heel, and upon leaving slammed the door shut to emphasize his disdain for this side trip he was being forced -- or had forced himself -- to make. 

As the echo from the slammed door faded, Montaron cursed the wizard -- and his new spellbook. Like as not Xzar would have them roasting chestnuts over an open fire before their quest for the Zhentarim was done!


End file.
